


have I fooled the whole world, nobody knows I'm a very bad girl

by girlsarewolves



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-23
Updated: 2013-02-23
Packaged: 2017-12-03 08:03:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/696078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/girlsarewolves/pseuds/girlsarewolves
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sansa Stark is the All American Girl, surviving family tragedy and ignoring the rumors about her husband-to-be. Sansa Stark is a good girl; a role model, a loyal fiance.  </p>
<p>Sansa Stark is screwing The Hound.</p>
            </blockquote>





	have I fooled the whole world, nobody knows I'm a very bad girl

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the sansan_got (on livejournal) kinkmeme last summer. Prompt was: "Sansa Stark is engaged to the the heir of one of the wealthiest families in the country - and secretly fucking his personal bodyguard to make herself feel in control." 
> 
> Trigger warning for references to abuse and an offhand mention of drugs.
> 
> Feedback is appreciated! :)

* * *

Sansa Stark is a good girl. Wholesome and clean and a proper, young woman. Sansa Stark is a role model and an inspiration to young girls everywhere.  
  
She doesn't let fame go to her head.  
  
She doesn't let money go to her head.  
  
She doesn't let her father's ruin drag her down.  
  
She doesn't let her brother's scandals drag her down.  
  
Sansa Stark is the All American Girl. She is a victim and a survivor; look at how strong she is, to not let her father's disgrace and death hold her back. Look at how loyal and devoted she is, staying with her fiance even though her family tries to discredit his name.  
  
Sansa Stark is all smiles and practiced speeches and rehearsed outings.  
  
What would they say if they could see her here and now?  
  
What would they say if they knew about the beatings and the drugs and the bitter, desperate woman she's becoming?  
  
What would they say if they knew she was fucking her fiance's fearsome brute of a bodyguard?  
  
There are nights like tonight where she almost wants to find out. Where she's half tempted to get caught. She thinks the look on Joff's face when the headlines came out would be worth it. Just to see him falter; just to see it sink in that even after all he took from her, she could still take something from him.  
  
Sandor is inside her. He's hard; he's huge. He never hits her. He doesn't need her crying to be able to get off.  
  
Sansa Stark is riding Sandor 'The Hound' Clegane like there's no tomorrow. She's moaning and cursing like a wanton slut; she never used to say 'fuck' very often until she felt the way Sandor's cock twitched and his fingers gripped a little tighter whenever she did.  
  
"Fuck me," she hisses and is rewarded by a powerful thrust of his hips into hers. She touches herself and rides him faster.  
  
He likes watching her do it.  
  
She likes telling him he can't do it for her.  
  
She likes telling him what he can and can't do period.  
  
They both know he doesn't have to listen. But he always does; she thinks that she might almost love him for it.  
  
That sweet, hot sensation in her abdomen is building. She leans over to kiss him, kiss over the twisted, ugly side of his face. She used to politely avoid looking at it; she used to be repulsed by it. She used to want only pretty things in her life.  
  
Mommy and Daddy never told her that sometimes the prettiest things have the sharpest stings.  
  
His hands are rough against her skin, sliding over her back.  
  
"Fuck," she whispers, just to rile him up.  
  
He growls; he is half a dog sometimes. His fingers curl just under her shoulder blades. Sometimes he leaves bruises. The ones Joffrey leaves she wears like battle scars, but the ones Sandor leaves she wears like love letters painted on her skin.  
  
"Little bird," he calls her. His voice is guttural and gruff and makes her hips jerk as she strokes herself faster. He loves her; they both know it. He loves her and hates Joffrey.  
  
One day she thinks that she will finally put that to good use.  
  
Not that it doesn't feel good right now.  
  
Not that it doesn't feel good every damn time.  
  
But one day...  
  
"Sandor," she moans with her mouth pressed to the burns that ruin the right side of his face.  
  
He moves his hands back to her hips, holding her in place as he comes inside of her. His eyes are shut, her name tumbling from his mouth like a cry to a deity - though he doesn't believe in any - and his whole body is taut.  
  
She shudders as pleasure begins to ripple through her - almost there, almost there - and she treasures her name on his lips. Her name, not 'little bird' or 'pretty bird'. Not 'girl', not 'kid.' Not 'stupid bitch' or 'pathetic cunt.'  
  
No one says her name like he does.  
  
And she can feel him inside of her; she closes her eyes and imagines that maybe this time she'll get pregnant.  
  
Now there's a scandal.  
  
Sansa falls apart in a burst of flames.  
  
He holds her as she sobs with pleasure, her body twitching and her fingers clutching. He holds her and strokes her hair and slides his hands all over her, greedy while he's allowed to be.  
  
The Hound would follow at her command.  
  
The Hound would kill at her command.  
  
Sandor Clegane is in love with her, and Sansa Stark is tired of pretty things and pretty faces and pretty lies.  
  
One day...  
  
Sansa Stark is a good girl.


End file.
